Not Your Average Lover
by tigers-snipers-and-rifles
Summary: Castiel finds himself his first girlfriend, whereas meanwhile the two Winchester brothers are hunting down a poltergeist.
1. Chapter 1

"I think I'm starting to see a pattern here, Dean." Sam sounded pleased with himself as he called from the living room. He was currently on his laptop searching up on a number of reoccurring deaths that they suspected to be caused by a poltergeist.

"What d'ya find?" Dean questioned from the bathroom as he finished drying his hands and went to join his brother. Turning, he was startled to find Castiel standing before him. "Jesus! Don't do that!" He gave the angel a mildly annoyed look. "Were you in here whilst I was pissing?"

Castiel appeared taken aback. "I have other matters of importance to be here than to watch you using the lavatory, Dean." He looked somewhat uncertain, as if something was bothering him.

Dean did not fail to notice. "Is there something wrong? Cas, what's happened?" His expression contorted into one of concern in an instant.

"I need your advice," The angel gave the man a hopeful glance before continuing. "You're experienced in such areas involving the female specimen and-"

"Oh, I see how it is," Dean cut him off. The corners of his mouth tugged up into a grin upon realising what Castiel was getting at. "Wait until Sammy hears about this." He left the bathroom and emerged into the living room to find Sam engrossed with his laptop screen, Castiel in tow. Sam glanced up to acknowledge their presence and stared perplexed from his grinning brother to the flustered angel.

"What?" He said pointedly when the two refused to enlighten him.

"Cas has got himself a girlfriend." Dean smirked.

"Well, Dean, she's not actually-"

"Has he?" Sam almost choked on his words, his eyes flickering to Castiel in disbelief. "I congratulate you then. What's her name?"

"When did you meet her?"

"She's not-"

"How'd you meet her?"

"Is she hot?"

"I-"

"Does she have a sister?" Dean broke in again.

"I have not yet spoken to her." Castiel finally managed to get some words in without the two Winchester brothers interrupting with various questions that he had failed to produce full answers to. For a moment or two, there was silence. Dean and Sam exchanged a look before the two roared with laughter, leaving Cas to stare at them in confusion.

"What do you mean you haven't spoken to her?" Sam asked breathlessly once he had calmed down.

"She works in the café downstairs. I've only ever seen her," Cas furrowed his brows when Dean doubled up again and barked another laugh. "What's so funny?" He narrowed his eyes, bewildered by Dean's amusement.

"You like her, don't you?" He asked with a devilish grin. Castiel gave a small, hesitant nod. Noticing the look the two men gave him caused his cheeks to burn as a light pink tinge coloured them. "It's all right, Cas. Sam and myself are quite the expert with women, right?" Dean glanced at his brother who gave a curt nod. The smirks lingered on their lips. "Who better to get advice from than us two? We know all there is to know. Pleasing women is what we're good at. Been there, done that." Castiel remained oblivious to what the man was hinting about.

"How do I please her?"

"Well," Sam intervened. "You gotta speak to her to begin with."

"And then you gotta hit on her." Dean added.

"Why would I hit her?" Cas frowned, mistaking the other's meaning. He had no experience with girls, so Dean and Sam had appeared to be the best option, considering they had had girlfriends and knew what to do. "Alice will not like me then."

"You'll ask her out on a date." Dean rephrased his words to make it more understandable for the angel. Otherwise they would not get anywhere. Cas was clearly hopeless with these matters involving relationships. "But like Sam said, you gotta speak to her. Make her like you."

Castiel nodded to show his understanding. He could do that. It did not sound awfully difficult and surely he would get the hang of relationships if Alice agreed to go on a date. Besides, he had Dean and Sam to guide him. If he got stuck, they would help.

"You should go to see her now." Sam broke the silence, his gaze fixed on his laptop as he typed. Cas contemplated the idea and looked to Dean as if needing his permission to do said task.

"Yeah, the day's still young. Pretend you're in for lunch." the elder Winchester brother nodded thoughtfully. It was the perfect opportunity for the angel to talk to this Alice whom he supposedly fancied. Cas walked to the door, Dean following.

"What if she does not have a particular liking to me?"

"Well then she is very stupid to not do so," Dean smiled and clapped Castiel on the back as the angel left through the door. "Go get 'er, tiger."


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a week now from Castiel had managed to befriend the blonde that worked as a waitress in the downstairs café of their hotel. The two brothers had decided to meet her upon Cas' request one afternoon and Dean had almost found himself jealous that he had not gotten there before the angel, but otherwise he was happy for his friend.

"Why must I wear this suit?" Castiel asked with a frown as he examined himself in the mirror.

" 'Cause you want to look smart, right? For your date." Dean motioned for Cas to turn around so he could put his blue tie on. That was the only piece of clothing from his other suit they were allowing him to wear. Castiel had donned a grey Armani, set with waistcoat and jacket that nicely outlined his form. Yet he still found the need to question why he was wearing it.

"What is the need of this other jacket?" Cas questioned, watching carefully as Dean wrapped the tie around his neck and began tying it.

"That's a waistcoat." Sam answered from the couch.

"Why is it necessary?"

"It's part of the suit," Dean replied and pulled back to admire his handiwork. "With that you will only need to wear the jacket." He went to fetch it from a chair and handed it to Cas. The angel looked longingly at his trench coat before slipping into the suit jacket.

"Will Alice like it?" He asked, once again turning to the mirror to study himself. He brushed the suit down, straightening himself and hesitantly moving to leave.

" 'Course she will." Dean assured and sent Castiel an encouraging smile. Nodding, the angel exchanged another few words before convinced and left for the restaurant. Dean joined Sam on the couch, his eyes resting on the television to find that he was watching A License To Kill. Yet his brother did not appear to be paying much attention to the screen. "Any new reports?" he questioned, his gaze flickering to the other man.

"No. I haven't found anything from that young girl, Sophie, that was murdered." Sam sighed. They were struggling with the same poltergeist and had not yet come up with any more evidence to where it might be now. Sam mumbled something else about a jail sentence, but it was barely audible and Dean never caught on to what he said, but assumed it had not been very important.

It was nearing midnight by the time Castiel returned. Sam had fallen asleep, slumped on the arm of the couch and Dean was on the verge of doing so himself. The TV blurred through his half-open eyelids. The hunter jumped and cursed loudly when Cas appeared in front of him, blocking his view of the screen. He glanced over at his brother to check he had not woken him and idly rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Y'know, there's a door." Dean stated, looking up at Cas. He really needed to stop doing that. He could hardly see him due to the darkness that flooded the room, apart from his outline that was visible because of the light pooling from the television screen. Remembering where the angel had been, he changed the conversation topic: "How'd your date go?"

"Well." Castiel replied. His gaze went to an unconscious Sam, then back to Dean. "We had dinner and then Alice invited me back to hers-" he began and was about to continue when Dean saw fit to interrupt.

"Did you…?" He hinted.

"Did I what?"

"You know," Dean made a rude gesture using both hands to indicate his meaning as Cas' eyes narrowed at the sight.

"I don't understand."

Dean rolled his eyes. He would take that as an obvious no. The angel likely had not gone as far as kissing her. Castiel was not exactly a relationship extraordinaire and had no experience whatsoever. He was curious about what impression the angel had made on his date and decided to ask, knowing Cas was more than likely going to enlighten him.

"What did Alice think of you?"

"I think she likes me." Cas sounded quite pleased with himself and beamed. Dean could not help but return the smile, somewhat happy for his friend. Who knew when Cas would find himself another girl he liked who did the same also? Besides, he had seen a few snippets of chemistry bubbling between them. The angel had mentioned they had a few things in common too, surprisingly.

"We're gonna investigate further into Clara Johnson's death tomorrow. Might lead us to something. You coming?" Dean pointed out. He had almost forgotten about it and hopefully they would dig up some more evidence to help figure out where they would find the poltergeist, who it was and how they would get rid of it. So far the only record of any other recalled death apart from Sophie included another woman of the name Sophie.

Castiel considered the question, thoughtful for a moment or two. "I can't. I'll be with-"

"Alice, right." Dean cut in and nodded his understanding. Of course. He had been with her a lot recently, he noticed. The silence was broken by Cas' mobile bleeping to indicate a message and Dean's eyes narrowed as the angel examined it. "Since when do you text?" he scoffed, watching disbelievingly as the other typed excruciatingly slow and kept peering at each button closely as he did so.

Cas briefly glanced up from the screen and pocketed the device when finished. "Alice said it was a better way of communicating rather than calling all the time."

Dean refrained from asking what the text had said, refusing to allow his curiosity get the better of him. Another message tone went off and it was then he lost his patience. "If you're done and going, go." He grumbled. Cas frowned, unable to comprehend why Dean was in such a sudden bad mood. When he remained on the spot, Dean shot him a dark look.

Only then did Castiel move toward the door, stopping to turn back to the man. "Dean, I-"

"_Go_." He snapped irritatedly, waiting on the angel to leave before the door shut behind him and Dean buried his head into his hands with both an exhausted and fed up groan.


	3. Chapter 3

Both men stared out the wind shield to where the pathway leading up to the old and abandoned looking house was, if you could call it one. It appeared almost ready to collapse into nothing but a pile of ash and debris soon if you so much as poked at it. No doubt it had been there for decades and it was a wonder it was still standing.

"Are you sure we've got the right address, Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly, unfastening his seatbelt and moving to climb out of the Impala.

"This should be it." He nodded, unsure himself now that he took a proper look at the building upon considering his brother's words. It didn't look as though anyone lived here, but there was only one way they would find out. Sliding out of the seat after switching off the engine, Dean joined Sam by the remains of the rusted black gate leading to the house. The taller of the two went first, forcing the gate open until it gave way with a cry of protest. "Should get that oiled." Dean muttered as he followed.

Sam glanced about out of curiosity, making comments as they neared the building. The garden was overgrown with weeds and varieties of other plants, with a single tree beside a small, murky pond that had flies buzzing round it as if it were a corpse. Coming into proper view of the house, it was worse looking up close. Sam paused by the door, gave Dean a glance that said:_ I have a bad feeling about this, _and gave it two sharp wraps that could have as well knocked it off its hinges with the force.

They waited a good few minutes and when no one answered, Sam went to leave first just as the door creaked open to reveal a woman that was probably as old as the house and also appeared ready to collapse. Sending her an apprehensive stare, Dean cleared his throat to make an introduction as he drew a fake ID from his pocket and presented it. "I'm Tom Fletcher and this is my colleague, G-"

"You're here about Clara?" The woman spoke lowly, as if not wanting anyone to overhear. Receiving a nod, she peeled the door back and turned to leave in the direction of the living room. Sam glanced back at Dean before the two hesitantly followed, shutting the door behind them. The hall was cluttered with antiques and framed paintings or photos littered the walls. The living room was very much the same. Taking a seat on the sofa, both men allowed their gazes to rest on the woman opposite.

"Clara was my daughter," she began quietly so that they had no other choice but to strain to hear. "I've had several interviews, but none like yourselves, Sam and Dean Winchester." On the statement, both brothers exchanged an incredulous look. The woman noticed and gave a toothless smile, but did not explain how she knew their proper identities. "Police believed it to be an accident, but I knew my Clara would never be so reckless. It was something more than that... something inhuman. There was no evidence, nothing that would prove me right, but I knew. I've heard of the likes of such fiends, but never this, whatever it is."

Silence fell as she finished speaking. Dean was first to break it after a couple of minutes. "Why do you think it went for Clara?"

"If there is a specific reason, I could not say. She was always a good person, never wanted any trouble."

"Would you mind if we took a look about?" Sam asked. It would help if they gathered further evidence. The woman gave them permission and both arose from the sofa to head back into the hall. "I'll take a look upstairs. You check outside, see if you can find anything."

"Just be careful." Dean replied and found his way into the garden. For a while he searched the front and when there was nought to be found, he headed round into the spacious backyard in hope of finding something worth his while. It led out into a forest and what appeared to be either a large boulder or likely a gravestone near the trees caught his attention.

Upon reaching it, he found that it was very hard to make out the engraved writing as the rock was beginning to wither away and the letters faded. Brushing away some vines that had laced around it, Dean peered closely at the name.

Frederic Johnson

1916 - 1978

'Non requiescent, usque dum facinus patratur.'

Dean stared at the grave for a long while, assuming it was the husband of the old woman he had just met. Taking out the pad and a pen in which he had brought with him, he noted down the last sentence at the base of the gravestone and went to stand, just as he heard his name. "Sam?" the hunter said aloud, turning. He was suddenly alert as his brother called again, this time in a frantic and almost panicked manner. "Sam!" Dean ran back toward the house, panting heavily by the time he flung himself through the door and into the living room from where Sam had called.

Upon reaching it, he stopped dead, his gaze first going from Sam to the armchair in which the old woman had been seated. Now she lay slumped over the edge, her dead eyes rested on the both of them. "What happened?" Dean asked quietly, taking a tentative step forward. Sam's hand latched around his wrist to restrict him going any further.

"Don't. Something was here," he looked to the shorter man. "I was upstairs and when I came down, she... she was having some sort of seizure." Dean refused to look at Sam and kept examining the woman before him. Sam continued: "She looked terrified, Dean. She knew what it was, what was killing her. She kept saying 'lock'."

That was all Dean wished to hear as he dragged the other man back through the hall and out the door. "C'mon, we're going."

"We can't just leave her." Sam protested.

"It knows we're after it. Why else would it kill her?"

"And what happens when the police find her body?"

"They'll think it was due to natural causes. She was old enough as it was anyway." At some point Dean spun round to glare at Sam. "You could have died in there, Sammy. We're not staying there any longer and nor will we go back to it." He continued walking and, reaching the Impala, hastily climbed into the driver's seat, Sam following almost reluctantly as he turned the keys in the ignition and pulled from the driveway.


	4. Chapter 4

"This is ridiculous." Dean complained, burying his face into his hands with a fed up and tired groan. Sam had been up the majority of the night with research and the two had barely slept at all. Finding out that their next deceased victim had no living relatives whatsoever only put them in a difficult position and stopped them in their tracks for any evidence.

"I'm not finding any Morrisons at all that may have been related to Sophie." Sam stopped typing to glance over the top of his laptop at Dean. "But get this; after she was killed, the rest of her family suddenly disappears too," He turned the laptop around so Dean could see the screen and the news article that had been put up on some website about mysterious murders. "It's not natural."

"I did say whatever type of poltergeist this is, it clearly does not want us on its trail. That's why it's killing off all our sources one by one." Dean sighed. So far, everything was not going to plan. "It wants to make sure we do not gather the evidence we need." And because of that, who were they to question next if there was no one?

There was the sound of keys as Sam continued typing, which was not long followed by a defeated sigh, only meaning that he had found no results. "Perhaps we could start with what he got on Clara." He suggested finally. Dean contemplated the idea with a nod. They might as well begin somewhere, even though not much had been found from Sam other than the newspaper that contained the report on Clara's death.

"I still think she meant to tell us something." Sam interrupted the other's train of thought.

"She said lock, Sam. How is that helpful?" Dean retorted.

"It wasn't like that. She was trying to say something else. It might lead us to something. We should go back."

"The house will be cleared out and knocked down by Thursday. It's too old to have everything fixed." Dean muttered absently as if that information was any help to them or it could somehow prevent the two from entering it again.

"Then we should go now." Sam shut his laptop over and stood, grabbing his jacket from the chair and heading toward the door. Dean hastily followed and took hold of his wrist before he could disappear outside.

"It was in the house with you last time. What if it had gotten you, and not her?" Dean looked almost pained at the thought. Of course he did not want Sam getting hurt. "This is too big a risk. What if it's still there?"

"Then it just is. Besides, how many times have we died?"

"That's not the point!"

Sam gave a brief roll of his eyes and yanked his wrist from Dean's grip. "C'mon, a poltergeist has never stopped us before." He turned to head downstairs toward the Impala, Dean following. Sam clearly was not going to give him another thought in the matter now that he was intent on returning to that house. There had to be something. Hell, anything.

"If you never found anything before, how are we gonna find something now?"

"I didn't get a proper look. At least not in the living room, nor kitchen," Sam sidled into the passenger seat and waited on Dean to turn the key in the ignition before the engine roared to life. Both men were quiet for a good while, lost in thought before Sam broke the silence. "How come Cas has not been coming along?" He inquired, curious. It did not make sense for Cas to not join them.

Dean frowned at the mention, shooting Sam a quick, almost peeved look. "Since he has a girlfriend, we're not important."

Sam raised a questioning brow and snorted. He doubted that. The angel was not required to be with them constantly, but it was strange with his lack of presence now that he thought about it. Dean remained silent and sulked for the rest of the journey. It was obvious he was not in a good mood, but Sam would not comment on it for the sake of avoiding an argument. Climbing out, he headed toward the rusted gate and pried it open as the metal screeched, causing the two to grimace at the ear piercing sound.

Upon reaching the door, they found it locked. Dean picked at it with his pocketknife and in no time they were inside the house. "Right, you take the kitchen, I'll search the living room." Dean suggested. Sam nodded and disappeared through the kitchen door as Dean went in the opposite direction. His eyes scanned the room, and something about the eeriness made him uncomfortable as he started poking at and picking up various different objects and setting them down again.

After a while of doing this, he came across a photograph and brushed the dust from it to examine it closer. Within it were three people, one recognisably being the old woman who had lived here. The younger woman appeared to be Clara, meaning the man must have been Clara's father. Dean was about to place it back when he noticed something and turned to leave for the kitchen. "Sam?" He called upon entering, finding the room empty and the back door ajar. Glancing out the window, he found that his brother was outside in the backyard.

Dean walked out, the photo being slipped into his pocket. "Sam!" He called louder, this time getting the man's attention. Sam motioned for him to come over, and as Dean did so, he realised the other was staring at the grave he had found the last day they had been here.

"Frederic Johnson," Sam said aloud. Dean assumed it was the very same man in the picture he had pocketed. His own eyes rested on the gravestone and it registered with him that something was missing.

"Wait," he muttered, crouching to study the engravings. "There's no other words."

"What other words?" Sam questioned, his expression contorting into one of confusion. Only then did Dean remember he had not told him about the words he had written down.

"They were here last time, in another language. I copied them down." Dean explained and stood.

"Oi!" A voice sounded from behind them. The two brothers turned to find another man walking in their direction. "What you doin' here? You ain't allowed."

"Could ask you the same question." Dean replied and looked the other up and down. He did not seem familiar at all.

"I'm here 'cause I have to clear this place out for Thursday." He gestured toward the house and smirked because it was clear he had the better side of the argument now.

"We're neighbours. And just leaving." Sam said hastily, giving Dean a small shove to get him to start walking. The man watched them leave, still blatantly suspicious. Coming onto the front path, there was a van outside that was parked by the Impala and a handful of men were walking toward them in the direction of the house. The two were given curious stares, but otherwise not questioned as they made their leave.


	5. Chapter 5

Books and newspaper articles were littered across the desk, including Sam's laptop that took up most of the space in general, leaving a very little area to work on. Most papers and files containing records that had been borrowed from the library were piled atop one another, disorganised and not the easiest to work with. A good majority of them dated back a long time, making the task that slight bit easier, at least.

Dean was studying the quotation from the gravestone that he had taken down. For some reason, when Sam found it the day before, the very same words had disappeared from the stone and none of it made sense there and then.

After a moment of silence and careful examination, Sam held out his hand for the notepad. Dean handed it over without a word, raising his eyes to watch Sam work.

"It's in Latin." He informed, though Dean had already been aware. He recognised the word 'requiescent'. The two had recited Latin before too. Sam brought up a translator, his fingers quickly skimming over the keys as he typed, occasionally glancing at the notepad to check he was spelling the sentence correctly.

Dean shuffled around the side of the desk to sit beside the man, waiting for the results as it translated. "Non requiescent, usque dum facinus patratur," Sam read, "I will not rest, until the deed is done." He said aloud. He frowned thoughtfully. "What deed?"

He received a shrug. "This was on Frederic's gravestone." Dean fished for the photograph in his jacket. It was the family one he had nicked yesterday from the house in case it came in useful at any given point. Could be it would be handy now.

"You think Frederic is the poltergeist?" Sam questioned before Dean could get a word in about the picture.

"Seems like it," he answered, just as Sam noticed what he was holding. Dean took the opportunity to point out the young woman that was Clara. "I found this, and look-" he motioned to the chain around her neck. The realisation finally hit the man, and he snatched the picture to take a closer look.

"Lock - Locket!" Sam said loudly in triumph upon suddenly understanding why the woman had repeated 'lock' numerous times. Sam had been frustrated from the moment he left, attempting various times to suss out the meaning. He looked pleased with himself, despite Dean being the one to figure it out first.

"All right, calm down, Sherlock. We've still got the rest of the mystery to solve yet." Dean picked up a file and began rummaging through the surnames until he came to Johnson. Sam did the same after setting down the photograph, straightening himself as he decided to try internet results and allow Dean to go through the files and records.

They remained there for hours, trying to find anything worth mentioning that would lead them further. For sometime, nothing was found and both men were slowly becoming increasingly frustrated. Eventually the typing stopped, the silence falling again for a longer period of time that usual. It was then that Dean looked up from some papers, his brows furrowing. "What did you find?"

Sam tore his eyes from the screen. "Clara was supposedly murdered, right? As was that girl, Sophie. They are not the only ones. Back in 1703, that's the first similar death that was recorded. Another woman too; unknown. People claimed her to be a witch, stoned her to death. But get this: apparently she didn't die, which made others fear her. She was drowned the second time, hanged the third. They came to the conclusion of locking her up in cell until she died of natural causes."

"Sounds like a demon." Dean observed quietly.

"You think Frederic might have been possessed then?"

"It's the only logical answer."

"But that means he would have killed his own daughter. And his wife too."

"Precisely." Dean muttered. The thought was not pleasant. Yet at least it explained what had happened to both Clara and Sophie and the cause of their deaths. It was something, and they could work with it. The more evidence that showed up, the closer they got to getting rid of it.

"There's a mention of some angel called Axiel. Says there was an attempted sacrifice on him by whomever was possessed at the time to release some demon in the first place, but it never occurred. Could be this is just some sort of myth," Sam explained with a shrug. "Perhaps we could ask Cas. See what he knows. The angel Axiel may have never existed."

Dean did not reply, his eyes glued to the papers he was holding. Sam knew not to say anymore and went back to his typing to see what else he could discover, and Dean returned to the large number of files. It was another good few hours by the time any of them found more details. It was late by then, the desk lamp the only light source Dean could work from. "Frederic Johnson," he stated, "Here's his records."

Sam looked over, interested. They were already aware that Frederic, or at least the poltergeist side of his spirit was murdering his family members by the looks of things. They would need to stop it before any others were killed. Sam's eyes rested on Dean just in time to see his face fall. "What is it?"

Dean stiffly handed the records over. Scanning the page, it took Sam a moment to see what Dean had been horrified about. "Alice," he mumbled, the blood draining from his face. "Cas' girlfriend?"

The shorter man nodded. "We cannot let this poltergeist get to her. If that story is real, Sam, she'll be the one to get possessed," Dean paused, swallowing hard. "This demon; for years it seems there have been attempts to free it. And by doing that," he muttered, bewildered, "An angel must be sacrificed."


End file.
